Remedy
by MexicanFood420
Summary: I mean, who wants to die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot?
1. Beep, Beep, Beep

There's blood everywhere, Sam knew that for sure.

He could feel Dean's arm around his shoulders, along with his own limp, numb ones hanging across his brothers back.

His body is the type of numb you feel when you've just hit the first drop in a roller coaster.

Or… Or maybe the first time you experience sleep paralysis.

Sam's an eery type of aware.

He can't feel much, but at the same time, if he were to get pinched right now, he'd be able to make out the tingle.

It, well, feels like he's bleeding to death.

…That's because he is. And he knows he is.

It's a feeling no one should be used to, but Sam's been hurt too many times and Dean's always been there to pick him back up.

And this time… Dean isn't just taking him back to the bunker.

He's barely aware of the sound of sirens, the noise processing in his mind only when he stops focusing on the words Dean's saying to him.

He tells him he'll be all right, get patched up and get back to hunting soon.

Sam's not so sure about that.

His lower abdomen is stinging in way too many places to be anywhere close to safe, and he can feel the the blood seeping from the wound on his right hand when he really forces himself to think about it.

He does this half to access the situation, half to gauge if he should even be holding onto any amount of hope at this point.

He hears his heart thudding in his ears, the organ in his chest lurching slowly in a feeble attempt to pump blood to all the places that it's lacking.

Which, at the moment, is everywhere.

Every lurch of his heart sends more blood pouring from the sliced veins in his torso and hand, causing him to nod off for a few seconds at a time.

Sam knows he's dying, but he's got Dean here to help him cross over.

Dean.

He's still telling him to focus, telling him to stay with him.

Even in this life or death situation, all Sam can manage to focus on is not ruining his brothers jacket with his blood.

And the fact that he let the damn monster get away.

"What happened? How long ago did this happen? Sir, I need you to be exact. What did this to him?"

There were different hands on him now, definitely not his brothers.

He's staring down at the gravel street below him, desperately trying to stand.

It's hopeless.

He's slipping, falling, dangling off the edge.

His eyes open for the briefest moment when he finally hears his brother's voice again.

"I-I… A few minutes ago. He got jumped. Some guy stabbed him and took his wallet."

Hah. More like sliced up by a fucking werewolf.

"Christ, j-just take him. I'll get there as soon as I can."

"You don't want to ride with him in the ambulance?"

Ambulance? Huh, that's new. Sure explains all the needles being shoved into his veins.

"You'll need your room in there to fix him."

That was to be expected.

Some lame excuse to go and finish the job. It was probably to make sure there weren't any more questions asked until he could come up with a better lie, too.

It was pretty standard for every time the two of them had a rare run in with doctors.

Doctors were just a slippery slope to the police, after all.

Dean's voice was shaking, and Sam couldn't help picturing that puppy-dog look of complete failure on his face.

Sam remembers it from the first time he died.

He sees it a lot before he falls asleep.

He sees it before he loses consciousness, too. 

* * *

The first thing he hears is the steady sound of his heartbeat.

He can tell it's his, the steady beeps from the machine to his right match up with the other drumming sounds he can hear and feel echoing from his chest.

His eyes are the next thing he becomes aware of, slowly fluttering open in immediate regret.

The lights are too bright.

Well, at least he can see.

He wiggles his fingers next, then his toes.

Oh, goodie.

Not paralysed.

We might as well rejoice.

"Well, well, well…"

Not deaf, either, from the sounds of the voice to his left.

It's smooth, eerily calming.

"I was wondering if I'd ever get to know your eye color, Mr. Winston."

Winston? Dean really has lost his creative touch.

The next words that come out of his mouth were said slowly, as if he was writing them down.

"Stunningly hazel."

He can hear the sound of a pen scribbling on a piece of paper, signaling that he did, in fact, write that down.

His paperwork must be incredibly empty other than the basics, considering he 'got his wallet stolen,' as Dean had said earlier.

They were wanted criminals, after all.

He wonders if he's ever been to this hospital before.

Probably not, since he'd most likely remember a doctor like this.

Speaking of the doctor, he soon leans right over him, a wide smile pushing his cheeks upwards.

His smile was chesire, eyes some of the bluest he'd ever seen. Tan, sandy blond hair. Just a little bit of stubble dusting his chin, a small skin tag right under his left eye.

He looks pretty normal, other than the smile that was currently blinding Sam.

"W-What are you doing?" He croaked out, his voice much raspier than he'd expected.

He probably hadn't had anything to drink in awhile, other than what fluid is being drained into his left arm.

"Making sure you're not, y'know, dying or anything. It's kind of my job." The words were accompanied by a small chuckle, the sound musical and honestly a little comforting.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked next, attempting to shift his body.

It resulted in a groan and a shock of pain up his spine.

"Woah, woah. Bad idea, kiddo. Try not to move."

"Kinda figured that out already." Sam's voice was gruff, sounding much unlike himself.

"Ooo, pretty and sassy."

Sam chose to ignore that comment.

Soon enough the man is pressing a button on his hospital bed, eliciting another small beep before there's a tightening around his arm.

It takes him a moment to realize it's just a blood pressure cuff.

"Where's Dean?" He asked again, slowly turning his head to look over at the man, doctor, whatever he was.

"You just missed him. He left about an hour ago. I told him he needed to go home, take a goddamn shower. Eat a decent meal. He hasn't really left since he got here. Boy, he'll sure be pissed at me for convincing him to leave. I'm good at getting people to do things, though. And he needed it. That man smelled like last years fruitcake." He was smiling, going through the actions of taking Sam's blood pressure like it was nothing.

He must've been a doctor for a long time, having been so accustomed to such actions.

He didn't really look like some old, experienced doctor, though. He was actually pretty young. Early thirties, maybe.

"Staring is impolite, Sam." The doctor spoke up, probably scribbling down Sam's BP on his clipboard.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been staring at the guy.

"Sorry." Sam found himself muttering, looking back up at the bright lights above him.

It was quiet in the room for a few moment, the only sounds the ones of the man's pen and the steady beeps of the heart rate monitor next to him.

"I'm sure you have questions." He finally spoke again, stuffing his pen into the pocket of his scrubs.

"How long have you been a doctor?"

"I… Really? Are you serious? Not 'how long have I been asleep' or 'am I going to die?'"

Sam looked back over at man, shrugging with a small wince, though he tried to act as if it was nothing.

"Well, for starters, I'm not a doctor. I'm your nurse. Get it right. And my name is Nick, since I'm sure your curious little ass was wondering."


	2. Warm

Nick. That was a normal enough name.

It seemed strange, however, for some odd reason.

Nick didn't seem like a Nick.

Sam soon realized he must've been staring again when his nurse spoke up.

"Still not interested in knowing if you'll make it? Or how long you've been asleep? Come on, Sam. Work with me. Wouldn't you like to know if Trump's president yet?" Nick asked, giving Sam a small, sly smile.

Sam was quiet as Nick walked around his bed, grabbing a new iv bag on the way over. He replaced his empty bag of fluid with the fresh one, plugging the tube into it before hanging it back up on it's hook.

He felt like he should be thanking Nick. Not just for changing his bag, but for the company as well.

He really must've been out for a long time if he was thinking about thanking some random nurse he'd only just met.

"I'll ask Dean when he gets back."

"...Okay. Fine. Anymore questions for me?"

There were more questions, but Sam was feeling very sassy at the moment.

"Well, you didn't really answer my first one."

Perhaps Nick's personality was rubbing off on him.

He hoped he wouldn't be here long enough him to pick up anymore of it.

"Ten years. I've been a nurse for ten years." The man didn't even glance up at him as he answered, now washing his hands thoroughly in the sink near the door.

There was something off about Nick.

Not something bad, though.

He was just a regular guy, Sam knew that.

But there was a weird sense of familiarity he felt towards the man, an almost comfortable feeling.

Sam didn't like letting himself to get comfortable with people.

Because, no matter what happened, it always ended in an uncomfortable situation.

Such as a falling out, a breakup, or death.

The last one was the most common, though.

"Yoo-hoo, Earth to Sam."

Staring again.

Nick was waving his hand in front of Sam's face, looking a little worried.

"You alright, bud? Jeez, they must pumping you with damn horse tranquilizer. You're whizzing in and out like a stink bug."

Sam turned his head, looking over at the iv bag of clear liquid.

"That's just some saline, trust me. Gotta keep you hydrated. I'm not really sure what else they've given you, since no one around here tells me anything ." He spoke loudly and tilted his head in the direction of the door, suggesting that he wanted someone, probably one of his fellow nurses, to hear it.

"Shouldn't you know?" Sam asked in a small voice, making his best attempt to sit up.

"Sam, don't ."

His nurse's eyes immediately widened, looking a little panicked as he darted to make sure he didn't move anymore.

"Easy, you'll rip your stitches." He sounded just a little bit calmer now, seeing that Sam had listened and actually stopped moving.

Almost like he hadn't expected that.

He placed a hand on his chest gently, keeping him fully against the hospital bed with a surprising amount of strength.

Or maybe Sam was just very, very weak.

Nick pressed another button on Sam's bed, pushing him upright into a sitting position.

Sam let out a breath of relief when he felt barely any pain, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I bet it feels nice to sit up after so long. You must be stiff. I'd offer a massage if I wasn't in such a professional position." Sam heard his nurse mumble the last part under his breath.

Nick's hand was still on Sam's chest.

It was nothing but calming.

It felt good .

There was something inside of him that just felt warm every time Nick touched him.

"Professionals give massages all the time." Sam found himself speaking without thinking, which he didn't do very often unless the situation was urgent.

Which it wasn't.

Save the witty one liners from Nick, it seemed like their conversations were almost in slow motion.

It was more comforting than anything.

He felt as if he could be open with Nick, speak his mind without having to filter out anything.

Just after that, he felt an emptiness rush through him all at once at the loss of Nick's hand.

"But who said I'd stop at that?"

Sam's eyes widened slightly, heat rising to his cheeks.

He was not expecting that.

"Kidding. I can get in some real trouble for that kind of stuff. So don't even think about it." Nick muttered absently, walking over near the window and sitting down in a rolly chair near a small table, which had a mini laptop on it.

"I'm not gay, so. That shouldn't be a problem." Sam chuckled softly, his voice still a bit rough.

"Right." Nick's reply was short and sweet and totally would've been sufficient to anyone else who wasn't currently battling with the fine aspects of his sexuality.

"Don't believe me?" Cue said man battling with if he was a raging homosexual or not.

Nick was quiet, silently typing on the laptop, not at all focused on Sam.

Well, at least he didn't look like it.

"Yoo-hoo? Earth to Nick?" Sam mimicked the man's prior words, thinking he was all cute and clever as he attempted to lighten the mood.

"We're dropping it now, Sam. Can't take a hint, can you?" His voice was different than before. Nick didn't seem at all interested in him, and Sam found that he didn't like that very much at all.

Well, after being in a coma for God knows how long, it was probably normal to want the attention of someone.

Probably.

At this point, Sam had begun to think he'd hurt Nick's feelings. He knew what it felt like to be rejected.

"...Sorr-"

Nick's response was sharp, cutting off Sam's word before it even fully left his mouth.

"Let me cut you off right there, jumbo. It's not what you're thinking, alright? I'll leave it at that."

Sam raised a brow at him, just looking at Nick for moment.

The man got up after that, closing the laptop and walking over to grab Sam's chart off of the counter next to his bed.

He didn't look sad or happy.

Not anything in between, really.

He looked indifferent.

"So, what? You can read minds now?" He asked him, weakly crossing his arms over his chest.

There was a small chuckle from Nick, one of genuine amusal.

He couldn't help but pick out how sinister it sounded.

Nick had walked to the door, now smiling to himself.

"Oh, Sam… You'd be surprised by all the things I can do."

And with that, Nick closed the door, leaving Sam alone.


	3. Stun Gun

Nick wasn't Sam's only nurse.

He'd discovered he had a few others when Nick was either gone for the day or on his break, or if he just didn't feel like dealing with him.

Which, after what had happened previously, was understandable.

There was an older woman, Sylvia, with dyed red hair, glasses, and had a slightly pudgy stature, though she was still in good shape for her age.

She was mom healthy.

She was very maternal as well, offering to fluff Sam's pillow, getting him all the food he wanted, and even sneaking him in some chocolate bars from the vending machine down the hall, which he was absolutely totally not supposed to have on the crazy diet the hospital had put him on.

It felt so good to finally have food in his stomach again.

Dean stopped by just when Sylvia was getting ready to go.

There was of course a joyous little reunion between the two, and lots of brother banter at its finest.

The older brother had a seat next to Sam's bed, practically beaming up at him.

Sam smiled back, though he looked a bit uneasy.

"Did you kill it?" The younger brother finally spoke, his hazel eyes locked on Dean's green ones.

He sighed in returned, leaning back in his chair as he spoke, most likely trying to get comfortable.

Nothing in this damn hospital was comfortable.

"... Not wasting any time getting back to business, are you Sammy?"

" _Did you kill it?_ " He repeated, looking very serious all of a sudden.

Dean reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yeah. Went back right after I got you on the ambulance. Ganked him and a few of his friends."

Sam was quiet for a moment, relieved and slightly suspicious all at once.

" _Alone?_ " He quickly asked, shifting on his mattress only slightly.

"Bobby drove down and helped out once I called and told him what happened to you. He didn't want me going back in there alone."

Sam was able to relax at those words, happy that Dean still had someone watching his back while he was out.

"How long was I asleep?"

Dean raised a brow.

"Didn't you ask Nick?"

It was strange.

Something about Dean talking about his nurse was… Weird.

It felt odd.

The kind of odd you feel when you see your teacher in the supermarket.

Or when your college friends meet your ones from high school.

Sam was able to pull himself back to reality quick enough to answer.

"I wanted to ask you." He said simply, shrugging the best he could in his current state.

"Don't you like Nick?" Dean again looked surprised, his features raised.

"Are you going to answer my question of not?" …That maybe came out a little more defensive than he anticipated.

Dean's features softened, his eyes narrowing for a moment before a small, knowing smirk started to form on his face.

"Three days."

It was Sam's turn to be surprised.

"That's _it_ _?_ "

Dean chuckled softly, nodding.

"Yep. I was here the whole time up until a few hours ago. Nick thought I needed a shower. Which, I mean. I guess I did. I was caked in blood. Surprised they even let me in, honestly."

Sam smiled at the thought of his brother pushing through doctors and patients, absolutely covered in werewolf blood as he desperately tried to get to him.

"Is Bobby still around?"

"He came a few times. Had to get going, though. Rufus ran into a vamp nest in San Antonio."

Sam nodded, looking away from Dean and over at the wall in front of him.

"So…" Sam breathed out, drumming his fingers on his bed.

"So." Dean repeated, letting out a small sigh.

"What next?"

"The hell do you mean? You're in a hospital, Sammy. You just woke up from a coma."

"It was barely even a coma. I'll be out of here in a few days." Sam laid his head back against his pillow, looking up at the ceiling. "What's our next move?"

"Sammy, stop. You had emergency surgery when you got here to repair your stomach and intestines. You almost lost a kidney, too. You're worse than you realize."

"I've had worse."

Those words would sting no matter who you were.

And, being the older brother who was always told to keep Sammy safe no matter what, Dean felt like he'd just been hit with a stun gun.

It was quiet in the room for a few moments before Dean started talking.

"Sam, don't. Just don't, alright?" Dean stood up, scrubbing a hand over his face as he paced around the room, obviously frustrated.

"Don't what? What would you do if you were me, Dean? You'd be wondering about what happens next. I'm fine. I'll be hunting again in a week." Sam sighed, turning his head to look at his brother.

"You almost died, Sam! And I couldn't do a damn thing about it." The older brother shook his head, hands on his hips as he almost glared at Sam..

"I didn't, though." Sam shifted, wincing slightly when he only barely moved to look at Dean.

Dean was about to speak again, mouth open and disapproving finger raised at Sam. 

"Sam, Sam, Sam… What did I tell you about sudden movements?"

It was quiet for a few seconds, both brothers looking to the doorway.

"Nick, this isn't really the time-"

"Oh, Dean-o. Shut up, will you? I'm sure Sam's sick of hearing about all the ways he almost died." Nick blew into a new pair of gloves, sliding them over his long, slender fingers. "He didn't. And that's all that matters. There's no reason for you to be stressing out my patient like this."

Dean and Sam looked like a pair of owls, eyes wide as they stared over at the nurse.

The older one quickly but in, his disapproving finger now waggling at Nick.

"I'm his _brother_. He's _my_ responsibility. Not yours."

"I disagree, considering I'm the one actually taking care of him."

Dean was up to two hits with a stun gun after that one.

Sam wondered for a moment why this was all happening, wondered if Nick was even allowed to talk to a patient's family like that.

Dean looked stunned.

Offended, too.

He didn't try to retort, simply grabbing his jacket off the chair and heading to the door.

"I'll be back later, Sammy. Don't start thinking we're done talking about this." Dean headed out after that, most likely going to the cafeteria or maybe to hit on some nurses to clear his head.

Sam relaxed against his bed, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Thanks."

Nick rounded Sam's bed, his surprisingly gentle fingers carefully pulling out Sam's iv.

"It's my job to make you comfortable. And Dean was only stressing you out. You've got no reason to thank me." The nurse mumbled, seemingly focused on opening up the small, sterile bag that contained a fresh needle.

"Well, I am. I'm surprised you even came back after what happened earlier."

Nick looked down as he changed Sam's iv, easily finding his vein and pressing the needle inside. 

"You couldn't get rid of me that easy." 


	4. Craving

There was never a dull moment with Nick.

He was a sly, charming, handsome man.

There was always that flirtatious little undertone when Nick and Sam would speak, even when it wasn't anything that could be considered flirt-worthy.

But it always made Sam smile.

"I can handle the pain."

"I'll handle _you_."

"Seriously, Nick. No more meds. They're not worth feeling so out of it. I doubt they're even numbing much of the pain, anyways."

"Trust me, Sam. They are. What, are afraid you might say something you'll regret?"

"Like what?"

Nick smirked.

"Well, admit your undying love for me, for one."

Sam snorted.

"In your dreams."

This was all so new to Sam.

The flirting, the comfort, the feelings towards another boy.

Except… Nick wasn't a boy.

He was a _man_.

Nick was a strong man who Sam knew could be serious when he wanted, but still used that cute little flirty tone that made Sam laugh and smile and feel happier than he had in a long time.

However whole and wonderful he felt around Nick, there was something missing.

He could feel it.

There was that little bit of something he was craving.

Sam blamed it on that beautiful sandy hair of his.

And the damn _peppering of stubble_ over his jaw and cheeks.

Nick's voice, too. The slow, smooth tone he used was always so soothing to him.

No matter what he was talking about.

"So, you two… Hunt. What's the big rush to get out of here? Deer isn't even in season for a few months, right?"

"I-Uh. We hunt… Squirrel. It's… Kind of a family thing. We go out a lot, especially now. We were out hunting when I got… Mugged." Sam spoke in quick phrases, the others filled with silence as he thought up his next words, being very careful not to let anything out that was even the slightest bit suspicious.

"I used to do stuff like that with my brothers." Nick's tone shifted to something softer, his bright blue eyes fixed on Sam's arm as he paused while taping down his iv. He stared at it blankly, seemingly looking back in time.

Sam just looked at him for a few moments, wondering what he could possibly be thinking about.

"...Nick?"

The nurse looked up, shaking his head slightly, probably shaking himself out of a trance.

Sam knew that feeling.

He sighed softly before speaking.

"Sorry. I, uh… I'm not close with my brothers anymore."

Sam pouted a little at that. "Why not? I mean… If you don't mind me asking."

Nick sighed, finishing up with the tape before sitting down at the edge of Sam's bed.

" _That's_ a long story, kiddo."

Before Sam knew it there was a hand on his, the gloves that he'd put on before changing his iv having seemingly disappeared.

"I've got time." Sam replied, his voice much softer than he'd expected it to be.

There was that warm feeling again.

It radiated through his entire body, sending heat through each of his veins.

His heart felt like a fireplace, pumping heat to the rest of his body.

The tips of his fingers were numb.

Still warm, though.

Just… Content.

Happy.

The touch was what he'd been craving.

What he'd been _missing_.

"I'm sure you do. But I've gotta get going soon."

Sam felt something jolt inside of his chest.

"You just got here."

Another sigh.

"I know. But I really haven't left much since you got here. My boss is getting his panties in a wad about all this overtime." Nick explained, his voice as smooth and radiant and beautiful as ever.

"Oh." Sam looked down, his gaze wandering to the warm hand that was resting on top of his own limp, numb, warm one.

Once Nick noticed Sam was looking at his hand, he moved it away.

Sam almost whined.

Almost.

"I'll be back in the morning. Sylvia will be around throughout the night to keep you company and make sure you don't, y'know, die."

"Y-Yeah, uh. Of course."

"Are you alright, Sam?" Nick looked over at all his monitors and all the other beeping things, looking seriously worried for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Never better."

"You're a bad liar."

There was a lingering smirk on Nick's face after that, looking incredibly smug.

He got up off of Sam's bed, doing a few more checks of his vitals before grabbing the boy's chart and heading to the door.

The next words his nurse spoke had a lovely little naughty undertone that made Sam's heart pump just a little quicker.

"See you tomorrow, Sam. Don't miss me too much."

Sam barely caught the slight jacking off motion Nick made as he left, though he caught enough to make him laugh at just the sight.

He was sure he had the goofiest nurse to ever exist, and he absolutely loved it.

There was a smile on Sam's face, and he couldn't think of a time he felt more content.

There was a calmness enveloping him.

He felt sad that he'd have to wait all night to see Nick again.

It's almost like he could sense how far away the other man was getting.

But that was… Very impossible, and Sam was back to blaming that sandy blond hair and the fucking stubble .

Though… He knew deep down that it wasn't just because he found his nurse attractive.

This was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

It was different.

It was _right_.

He felt like he'd known Nick for a lot longer than a day.

Almost like the two were old friends.

The familiarity between the two of them was almost startling.

Maybe it was just because Sam didn't exactly have many friends in the first place.

Pushing those thoughts away quickly, Sam shifted and turned his head, looking over to the window on the complete opposite side of the room.

What a horrible design.

 _Why would someone put the one thing someone wants most so far away?_


	5. Odd

The following night was one of the longest Sam had ever experienced.

It was long and boring and horrible and filled with exactly zero fun.

Dean came back after a while.

Okay, exactly _negative_ _zero_ fun. 

It didn't take long for him to get right back to it.

"I went and talked to your doctor earlier. He was in the cafeteria the same time I was." Dean spoke, choosing to walk around a bit and check out all the beeping stuff.

"I still haven't met him yet." Sam told him matter-of-factly, honestly wondering what was up with that.

Weren't you supposed to meet your doctor whenever you woke up?

That's how it'd been at the other hospitals he'd stayed at, anyways.

"Really? He must be avoiding you on purpose, then. Probably doesn't wanna be the one to break the news to you that you're dying."

"Dean."

"Okay, fine. You're not dying. But I talked to him, alright? He wants to run a bunch more tests. I remember him mentioning a cat scan."

"Did he say why he wanted to do the CT scan?" Sam raised a brow at him, honestly looking a little concerned.

He knew his wounds were bad, but he didn't think they were _that_ bad.

"Uh, something about blood vessels. Or… Tissues. I don't know. Something about tissues. And vessels." Dean managed to get out, starting to squeeze the ball on the end of a stray blood pressure cuff.

Sam nodded in response, visibly relaxing.

"Makes sense, I guess. He's probably checking for internal bleeding." He let his thoughts be heard, not wanting Dean to worry, either.

"Oh, yeah. There was a lot of that when you got here. Your intestines were pretty much falling out."

"Thanks for the visual, Dean. Appreciate it."

"It was gross."

" _Really_? I would never have guessed."

"Hey. No need for the sass, Mr. Floppy Intestines."

Sam seemed to just give up after that, laying back against his bed and looking up at the ceiling. He let out a small sigh, feeling utterly exhausted at this point.

"You should get some sleep." Dean told him, most likely able to sense the waves of sleepiness his brother was putting off.

"I know." Sam whispered, letting his heavy eyelids finally fall shut.

Dean's voice was soon next to his ear, whispering words of comfort as his hand gently brushed some hair from his forehead.

"I'll be back in the morning, Sammy."

"Bye, Dean."

There was a very gentle pair of lips placed right on his forehead, making him downright grin.

"Quit smiling."

"You haven't done that since I was a little kid."

"Shut it."

Dean left after that, the skudding of works boots and the tiny beeps of his monitors the only thing to fill the empty room.

It was the most comfort he'd felt since Nick was here.

It was strange.

And, frankly, it had Sam questioning _everything_.

He'd reached the conclusion that this was, in fact, possibly, perhaps, maybe…

Love.

But… That was impossible.

Because he'd been in love with Jess.

Or… Or had he?

What was love, anyways?

Was there a definition of what it was supposed to feel like?

Besides, love at first sight was just a myth.

 _Wasn't it_?

Why _him_?

 _Why_ _Nick_?

* * *

The next thing he knew, Nick was back.

It wasn't morning, though.

It was dark out, indicated only by the stupid window on the opposite side of the room. 

But, Nick was back.

Sam surely wasn't going to complain. 

He was dressed casually, though this didn't immediately strike Sam as odd.

The man was donning a _sinful_ amount of green.

A top overshirt type of thing that was a horrid shade of the color, while his undershirt was more of a nice shade of olive. Basic dad jeans and some sneakers completed the look. 

What did strike Sam as odd, however, were the first words that came out of his nurse's mouth. 

"Sam Winchester." 

There was an instant sense of panic in Sam's gut at the words of the other man, his face going ten shades of pale.

Able to see Sam's panicked expression, Nick took pity on him. 

"Oh, right. Supposed to use 'Winston' instead of 'Winchester.' Remind me to compliment Dean on his creativity, by the way. That boy is a genius." 

Okay.

Nick… Knows stuff.

Alright.

So, Nick knows some stuff.

After no thought at all, Sam decided that he's okay with that… For some reason. 

"Jeez, all this thinking is giving me a headache."

Sam started speaking without thinking again, finding that Nick just have that kind of effect on him.

"... What are you thinking about?" He asked the nurse, a small smile linger on his face.

Nick let out a soft sigh, shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, not me. _You,_ Sam-a-lam. Quit thinking so much."

Not odd at all.

"So… You can read minds now."

"Always been able to, kiddo. Kinda comes with the whole ' _archangel'_ thing."


	6. Mind Games

"Sammy!"

The first thing Sam saw when he woke up was the ceiling of his hospital room.

Same cracks, same gross water stains.

It kind of reminded him of a ceiling that would be in a high school cafeteria.

The next thing that Sam became aware of was how goddamn stupid he was.

He felt like his torso was on fire after jolting upright like that.

 _Stupid_. 

"Bobby got hurt. Bad. Like, _you_ bad. It ended up being a rougarou. Rufus did all he could, apparently, but if he did Bobby wouldn't have a hole in his fucking leg!" Dean started out sounding uncertain, but eventually his obvious anger towards Rufus started growing.

Sam gave him a few moments to gather himself, and he eventually did.

"I have to go make sure he's okay. And get the real story." He stated, still sounding bitter about the whole thing.

"Dean, calm down. You're not thinking straight. We both know Rufus would do whatever he could to save Bobby." Sam replied, starting to pick absentmindedly at a cut on his arm. 

It's not like he didn't care about Bobby.

He just… Had other things on his mind.

Things were different now.

His mind had concocted a dream… No, _nightmare_ … For him.

And, in this nightmare, Nick had claimed to be something that… He couldn't possibly be. 

An _archangel_.

Like, an archangel.

As in God's first creations.

As in the highest rank of angel.

As in something that could vaporize Sam with a single _thought_. 

There were… Four archangels.

Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and Gabriel.

He'd already ruled out Gabriel. 

Sure Gabriel was a goofball.

Sure Gabriel liked playing tricks on him.

Sure Gabriel had the hots for him.

But…

That didn't feel right.

It didn't sit right in his gut. 

Next was Raphael.

Strong, regal, serious.

Nope. 

Lucifer.

That one seemed almost comical to him.

He'd been locked in a cage in Hell for God knows how long. 

Why was he even considering any of this?

It was a _fucking dream_. 

Michael was next.

A serious daddy's boy, from what he'd heard.

Basically another regal soldier, just like Raphael.

Yeah. 

No way any of them could be his Nick. 

It was Dean's voice that pulled him from his thoughts. 

"Sam?"

He'd been staring at one of the cuts on his arm, having dulled out whatever Dean was saying.

The only thing he was hearing was the rumbly sounds of annoyance and worry.

"Yeah?" Sam finally replied, looking back over at his brother.

Dean squinted his eyes a little bit, looking Sam over.

He opened his mouth once as if he was going to speak, but nothing came out.

He did it again, this time finding words.

"I'm… Gonna go now. You okay, little brother?" Dean paused. "You're looking a little green."

Sam sighed softly, reaching up to scrub a hand over his face.

He was still tired. 

He knew he shouldn't be, though.

It kinda felt like something was _making_ him sleepy.

He blamed it on whatever liquids they were pumping into his veins now, since it did seem to have that same drowsy effect. 

He quickly dismissed it, looking back over at Dean.

"N-No. I'm good. Don't worry about me, alright? Just go see if Bobby's okay." He responded, laying his head back down against his pillows.

He'd gotten used to the hardness by now, it didn't really bother him anymore.

"I'll call you once I know something."

"Drive safe, alright?" 

They really didn't need three of the best hunters in the country all in the hospital at once.

Dean knew that, too. 

"Yeah, yeah." The older brother just rolled his eyes, giving Sam's hand a light squeeze before leaving the room. 

Alone again.

* * *

" _Hello Sam_."

In hindsight, he should've at least _tried_ to keep himself from jolting again.

He was bound to rip his stitches at some point.

Looking around frantically, Sam grabbed the nearest weapon he could find.

It just so happened to be the first thing he could get his hands on, which was a remote, but it would do.

Once Sam was sure he didn't have anything else he could possibly use as a weapon, he took a moment to collect himself before responding. 

"Nick?"

He would've known that voice anywhere.

So smooth and genuine, always calming.

He knew it was Nick.

And, foolishly staring over at the door, he soon realized his nurse wouldn't be walking in to check on him.

And, once Nick didn't respond, he dismissed the entire thing. 

The drugs he was on were surely messing with his head.

Laying back against his bed again, he let out a small sigh and closed his eyes again. 

" _That desperate to see me again, huh_?" 

His eyes flew open, head jolting from side to side in quick movements, looking for whoever- _whatever_ -was currently fucking with his mind.

Soon after, he found words. His response was quicker this time. 

"Where are you?"

" _Where am I? In your head, idiot. It's nice in here. Very clean. Well, except for all those dirty little thoughts of me_." 

He was quiet after that, just listening for anything that could possibly give him an idea of who this really was.

He tried to ignore the part about his dirty thoughts, and, well there was no use denying it.

It was in his fucking head for sure. 

" _I really expected you to be more of a prude about this stuff. And, really? A daddy kink? Damn, Sammy. That's a little weird. Not unexpected, though, considering your plethora of daddy issues. You're practically the poster boy for fucked up childhoods._ "

Sam grimaced at the words, closing his eyes tight.

" _Well, I mean. I suppose it could fit with us. You, the boy desperate to fit in, to feel whole. Me, the Daddy that makes you feel loved, makes you feel wanted, makes you feel safe. The one who'll protect you at all costs, you know?_ "

He felt himself shaking, the fear and paranoia finally setting in.

" _By definition, a 'Daddy' is the oldest, best, or biggest example of something. And, well. I'm all of those things. I wouldn't call my father, nor Michael a Daddy in any way since they both suck, so. I'm pretty old, yeah. Eons, actually. I'm definitely the best. I doubt you need an explanation for that one. My true form could play golf with the moon. Not to mention my magnum dong_ -"

"Stop! Just stop it!" Sam finally yelled, having had about enough of this voice in his head.

There was complete silence after that, up until the moment Nick came running into his room, looking worried.

"Sam? What's wrong?!"


	7. Drugs and Dreams and Dicks

"N-Nick?"

His nurse looked poised, ready to strike at whatever was hurting the man in the hospital bed.

"Yeah, Sam?"

Sam's head fell back against his pillow.

He was too tired to deal with this shit.

Groaning, he turned his head to look over at the blond haired man.

He wasn't dressed casually this time, since, well, that was a dream.

Back to those normal scrubs.

They were light blue, almost the color of Nick's eyes.

His were deeper, though.

"This isn't real, is it?" Sam asked, blinking slowly.

Nick raised a brow at his patient.

He waited a moment before raising a finger, dramatically pressing it against his soft stomach.

He removed it after a moment, chuckling.

"I'm pretty sure this is real, Sam. I feel pretty real."

Sam just looked back at the ceiling, feeling absolutely exhausted all over again.

Completely _drained_.

It was quiet for a few seconds as Sam closed his eyes.

"I'll take you off the Hydromorphone." His nurse's voice chimed in and Sam opened his eyes with a sigh, glancing over at the man as he rounded his bed.

Nick had visibly calmed down, most likely figuring it was just the drugs. 

He reached up, his long arms easily taking his iv bag off its hook in an obviously practiced motion.

Sam felt relieved once Nick stopped the drip.

"Thanks." 

A small smile rose to Nick's face while meddling with a bag of clear liquid.

"Hey, no problem Sammy."

"Don't call me that."

Nick paused.

"Touchy." He went back to replacing his iv, having to flush the current one still in his arm. "And not the good kind."

They stayed in silence for a while.

Nick got him off the Hydromorphone and replaced it with some simple saline, since it wasn't exactly legal for him to just take him off the drugs he'd been assigned by his doctor. (If his doctor even existed.)

And, hopefully, he wouldn't even be able to tell the difference.

Sam had a feeling his doctor didn't exactly care about his patients.

Why else wouldn't he have shown up yet?

Finally, Nick broke the silence.

"People don't have feet in dreams, y'know." He spoke casually again, that smooth tone slipping right in between his words.

"What?"

"That's how you know you're dreaming. You look down and don't have any feet. It's a proven fact."

It was quiet again after that for a long while.

Nick was busy typing away, most likely filling out some kind of report on why his patient had been, well, screaming.

"What'd you see?" Nick asked like, not bothering to even look over at him.

Sam was the one to pause this time.

"In your dream, Sam. Everyone sees different things when they have drugged up dreams. You woke up screaming for something to stop. It sometimes helps to talk about whatever 'it' was."

Sam shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to wince at the pain in his stomach.

He let out a sigh, reaching up and running a hand through his hair.

"Aren't you supposed to ask me the basics? How I'm feeling? If I've experienced any nauseousness?"

"How are you feeling? Have you experienced any nauseousness?"

"Asshole."

Nick smiled, simply looking amused in response, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall next to his bed.

"Obviously something crawled up your ass today. Just trying to figure out what it is." He shrugged, that cheshire smile ever insistent.

"Why are you so interested?" Sam asked him.

"Well, I walked into work to hear my patient screaming, for starters."

Sam considered this for a moment before speaking.

"Fair enough." He paused before looking away from Nick, eyes narrowing slightly. "And I wasn't dreaming."

"Sam, I know dreams can feel extremely real, especially when they're pumping you with horse tranquilizer, but-"

"I. Was not. Dreaming."

Nick sighed, scrubbing a hand down and over his face.

"Okay. Okay, fine. Then what the hell did you want to stop?"

" _You_."

Nick was the one speechless this time.

"And why did you want me to stop, Sam?" He finally asked, eyes fixed on the younger man.

Nick spoke quietly, hand moving up near his mouth, taking the nail of his index finger in between his teeth.

He nibbled on it while waiting for an answer.

Sam let out an almost bitter-sounding laugh.

"It's stupid." He muttered, looking back over at Nick, hazel eyes locking with that deep blue.

"Oh, I highly doubt that."

"You told me something I didn't wanna hear."

Nick tilted his head slightly to the side, squinting curiously as he watched Sam.

"And that was?"

"You told me you were an angel."

There was no point in making up something clever.

Against his better judgement, he trusted Nick.

"An angel." His nurse deadpanned, nibbling on his fingernail absently.

"An archangel, actually."

"I didn't take you for the religious type." Nick chuckled, weakly blowing the severed fingernail from his lips.

"I'm not." Sam chuckled, shaking his head and looking back up at the ceiling.

"Do you just... Dream about angels often?" Nick asked, uncrossing his arms.

"No. Never, actually. Only dreamt about you recently."

Nick looked a little bashful, a small smirk forming on his lips.

"Sam, now, I know I'm dreamy, but-"

"This has nothing to do with that, alright?"

Nick just chuckled, pushing off the wall and making his way over to Sam's bed, plopping down on the edge of it.

"Nick," At this point, the filter between Sam's brain and mouth was completely gone. "You'd tell me if you were an angel, right?"

"Mhm, yeah. Of course. Lying isn't exactly in my nature." The nurse assured him, reaching up to squeeze his hand.

Sam attempted to squeeze back, his grip still rather weak.

"Okay. Okay, good." He smiled at Nick, mind wandering to the fact that he _was_ really dreamy.

"You should get some more rest. Dream lots of little dreams of me, alright? Taking you out of this dingy room later, you hear me? Get you some fresh air in the courtyard."

Sam practically beamed at his words.

"Really?" He asked, looking entirely too excited.

"Yeah, of course. Right after the doc comes to see you, I'll make sure he lets me. Just as soon as he clears you, I'm taking you out on the town, gonna show you to a downright _lovely_ time." Nick promised, those gorgeous blue orbs seemingly looking right into Sam's soul.

Any nervousness or worry about the man was gone.

Nick cared about him, and Sam cared about his nurse in return.

There was no denying their connection.

He wouldn't let a stupid dream get in the way of that.


	8. Scrubs

"What's he like?"

They'd been quiet for a while, simply enjoying each other's company while Nick filled out some paperwork in the chair next to Sam's bed.

Sam loved when he did that. Went out of his way to spend some extra time with him.

He wondered if he was the only patient he did this with.

Probably not, but he liked the thought nonetheless.

"Mm, who?" Nick glanced up at Sam, a curious little smile wiggling it's way onto his calm face.

"My doctor." Sam responded, mirroring his smile with ease.

There was a pause after that in which Nick shifted in his chair.

"Oh." His nurse's smile fell slightly after that, looking back down at his pile of charts.

Sam tilted his head a little bit, reaching to touch Nick's arm. "What is it?" He asked him, slightly concerned by that response.

Nick didn't usually act like that.

"He's… An asshole. A complete shithead. A good for nothing sack of fucks."

Sam's eyes widened, obviously not expecting that.

"Woah, woah. Back up. I figured you had some beef with this guy since he's been basically non existent to me, but what the hell did he do to piss you off?" He asked.

"He's a horrible human. He's married, got a few kids, too. Diddled about every nurse in this damn hospital, aside from me, obviously. No way his disease ridden ass would be getting near my goodies."

Sam nodded slowly, shifting slightly and reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "Is he a good doctor, at least?" He asked him curiously, eyes moving back to Nick's face, which still looked considerably pissed.

… He totally didn't think that was a good look on him.

Those damn eye crinkles, and the stupid way he was purposefully avoiding Sam's gaze.

"He's fine, I guess. I've seen better, seen worse. He shows up hungover most days, if he even shows up at all. Most of the time he's vacationing in Italy or France or some other place he's got a summer home in."

Sam nodded again, eyes still fixed on Nick's annoyed face.

He glanced back at Sam, his face cold for a few more moments before falling into that little smile he always seemed to be wearing around him.

And, fuck, that would _never_ go out of style.

"Well," Sam broke the silence, wearing a small smile of his own. "I'm meeting him soon, right? I can't imagine you'll be sticking around while he talks to me."

Nick sat down his charts on the bed, scooting his chair a little closer with a few skits on the floor, taking Sam's hand and giving it a good squeeze. "I'll be right here. As long as I'm still kicking, you won't be alone with him. He's got ways with people, and he will _not_ be using any of his fancy french tricks on you, Sammy."

Sam's eyes widened slightly, his heart skipping a beat or two.

"... You're worried I'll find him charming?" He asked, speaking slowly, trying to process all this in his head.

Nick chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "Yes." He admitted, giving Sam another smile. "I am."

Sam paused for a moment before laughing, well, _snickering_.

"You're jealous. And I haven't even met the guy yet! He must be really hot, huh?" The man reasoned, figuring that'd be the only logical option.

"No. Absolutely not. He's just got his ways, alright? He's normal looking. Well… He's got a Gordon Ramsay kinda vibe to him. Except he's got a fancy white coat. Though… I'm almost certain you prefer scrubs." Nick snickered, glancing down at his current outfit before looking back up at Sam, waggling his brows. "Plus, it's not like I'd ever let him even try to pursue you."

Sam was laughing before Nick finished, his smile all dimples and white teeth.

"He's a doctor. Bet he makes better money than you. And those summer homes sound just lovely." Sam responded finally, his cheeks hurting a little from laughing.

Nick rolled his eyes, giving Sam's hand a squeeze. "You shouldn't be worrying a hair on that pretty little head about money. I plan on getting you all the summer homes your little heart desires."

Sam looked aside and grinned, nibbling on his lower lip and blushing like the loser he was.

"... Since when are you the one deciding who gets to pursue me, anyways?" He asked once he'd recovered, leaning forward a bit and chuckling.

Nick's smirk easily fell into a smile, his hand moving to gently stroke Sam's wrist with his knuckles.

"Since you got rolled into this hospital, Sam."

Sam was taken aback by that response, not really expecting it at all.

"Yeah?" There was no denying the slight pink tint to his cheeks.

"Yeah."

There was another small silence between them, but nothing uncomfortable or unwanted.

"You're staring." Sam pointed out, though he was guilty of admiring Nick's face as well.

"Mhm. And you're beautiful. People tend to stare at beautiful things, Sam. I'd take a picture, but I'm a little short on camera's at the moment."

"You're really creepy sometimes."

Nick snorted.

"You've got no idea."

The nurse stood up after that, giving his patient's hand a quick squeeze. "I'm gonna go fetch your dickhead doctor. Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart. And stop looking cute, alright? I'll have to punch him if he starts flirting with you too much. And I was really starting to like this job."

"My hero." Sam laughed, shaking his head and finally letting go of his hand.


	9. Bollocks

It only took about twenty minutes for Nick to return.

He looked visibly displeased, if not disgusted.

His face was all scrunched up and he looked more annoyed than Sam had ever seen him.

And, after shooting Sam an almost pitiful look, he stepped out of the way to let his doctor in through the door.

He closed it once the man was through, handing him a clipboard before stepping to the other side of Sam's bed.

The simple gesture was enough to bring a smile to Sam's face as he looked up at his nurse.

The two of them exchanged smiles and warm looks before Sam's attention moved back towards the other man in the room, though it was easy to forgot anyone else was there when Nick was so close to him.

He was the most flamboyant, douchey-looking man Sam had ever seen.

He kinda looked like if Liam Neeson knocked up Gordon Ramsay.

"Ah, hah. And what do we have here, Nicholas?" The man in the white lab coat asked, not looking over at Sam, instead keeping his bright eyes on Nick.

And… Of course he was British. Or French? Something like that.

Sam took a moment to let the words make sense in his brain.

It was kinda like when you look at a clock, then look away, and have to look at it again because the numbers didn't make sense the first time.

 _Nicholas._

That name did _not_ suit him.

Well, neither did Nick, but-

"Sam Winston. Mugged, robbed of his wallet; no belongings other than the clothes he came in with. Stabbed through the abdomen, received several slash marks along his stomach and intestines. Massive amount of internal bleeding, though it has stopped since the operation. He was in comatose for three days with limited reaction to light; none to sound. I didn't think he'd pull through as good as he did, but his healing has been progressing rapidly. It's basically unheard of to have a patient healing this quickly."

It was rare that Sam got to hear Nick talking that much, let alone about his work.

He decided it was cute when his nurse went into Work Mode™.

It wasn't often that Nick showed how smart he actually was.

Though… The doctor didn't let it last long.

After a once over of his nurse, he started talking again.

"I'm sure in your small amount of time at this hospital it seems almost supernatural, huh? Ah, it's always good to see ignorant, naïve little nurses being so hopeful when it comes to their patients. Just don't get too attached, Nicholas." Nick was shot a sly little wink after that, a shit-eating grin showing bright on the doctor's face. "You never know what'll happen."

Nick was seething.

His hands were balled into fists, jaw set. It was obvious that he was gritting his teeth.

A chill ran up Sam's spine.

The room seemed to get just a _little_ cooler.

He blamed it on a draft that must've come from the door, considering the windows in patient's rooms didn't open.

A moment after that, the door opened.

Dean's voice broke through the silence of the room.

"So, you're gonna tell us how long it's gonna take to get Sammy outta here, right?"

Sam tore his eyes away from Nick, who seemed to slowly be calming himself down. He looked over at Dean, who was nonchalantly pushing past the man in the white coat.

The doctor looked a little surprised at Dean's forwardness.

"I- Yes." The man pushed a clipboard against Nick's chest blindly, moving to extend a hand out to Dean. "Excuse my rudeness." He paused. "Doctor Novak." He announced his name finally, his previous shit-eating grin turning into something a little more curious than anything.

Maybe even charming.

Sam couldn't really say.

Dean eyed his hand before finally taking it.

"Dean." He responded, green eyes flickering over Dr. Novak's smooth features.

Sam looked between the two of them for a few seconds.

His brother was still holding the doctor's hand.

He wondered what the _hell_ was going on.

"It's good to see you again, Dean. Our meeting in the cafeteria was cut _far_ too short."

Sam could practically _feel_ Nick rolling his eyes.

Dean cleared his throat.

"Huh, yeah. Guess it was." He agreed, before finally noticing that they were indeed still holding hands. After dropping it, he pulled his attention away from the doctor and to his brother.

Dr. Novak had started smirking.

He looked as if he'd unhinge his jaw and devour his brother any damn second.

… Sam wondered if Nick ever looked at him like that.

"So," This time, Nick, blessedly, broke the silence. "You two just gonna stare at each other all day or are you gonna tell Sam what's going on? I mean, I'd do it, but it's against protocol. And, Doctor Novak, you would _never_ break protocol, would you?"

It was a low blow, and everyone in the room could feel it.

Dr. Novak didn't seem too phased, however. His smile was soft as his gaze wandered over Nick.

Sam didn't like the way he was looking at his nurse.

"He's right." Dean spoke up. "I'd like to know anything you can tell me about my brother's condition, Dr. Novak."

"Oh, Dean. Don't you worry. We'll get to that soon enough. And, please. Call me Balthazar."


End file.
